


red, white and blue

by monyaka



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Blow Jobs, Canon Trans Character, F/M, I have no idea how else to tag this, Master/Servant, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Spanking, Trans Grell Sutcliff, ive only watched s1 so that's basically what this is based on idk any spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monyaka/pseuds/monyaka
Summary: BOSS: Know why I called you in here?ME: Because I accidentally sent you a dick picBOSS: [stops pouring 2 glasses of wine] Accidentally?Something has found its way to William T. Spears that he should, by all accounts, never have seen.





	red, white and blue

**Author's Note:**

> watch will become a sub before your very eyes

Some people would say that Grell has nothing going for her. That she’s a lecherous and lazy reaper, that she has no special skill. But she does have one skill—pure stubborn optimism. A vivacity that highlights her blood-red nature. She bubbles over with passion, stubbornly resisting every opportunity to mourn, to be upset, and replacing it with the beauty of scarlet. So even though William’s office has been the home of nothing but constant demotion, she’s never been particularly upset to be invited there.

“Will!” the reaper calls out, twirling shamelessly into the immaculate space. Everything is in its place, without even a speck of dust collecting. Where Spears finds the time to clean is beyond her, but she’s never much cared for boring, trite things like rules or work. She notes with a hint of annoyance that the entire space is white, the occasional tint of blue making the space a bit less blinding. A sigh and a roll of the shoulders, the fabric of a certain woman’s coat shifting with a satisfying sound. Her voice seems to drop half an octave, the initial excitement fading in favour of something a bit more jaded (and much more sophisticated, she thinks privately). “Don’t tell me you’re going to demote me again. I didn’t do anything this time! So unfair, Will...!”

With a shark-tooth smile, Grell peeks over her shoulder to gauge her boss’ reaction. He simply uses his spear to adjust his glasses. Immune to her whining as always... how stoic of him! She feels her pulse suddenly quicken with the excitement of it all. The smile grows wider.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Grell Sutcliff?” comes that boring, dreary, oh-so-cute voice. He takes out a bottle of red—ooh, her favourite!—and a glass shined until it’s sparkling. His hands are steady, like a rock, or a manly man holding her close on an awful freezing night...! The beautiful liquid sloshes into the glass, and the reaper is transfixed for a moment or two.

“Grell?”

So rarely does William call her by her first name! This calls for a celebratory dance; at least a twirl or two, some mad giggling as she hugs herself. “Will!” she squeals. “I’m absolutely beside myself with joy! Have we finally broken past our professional barrier? Are you finally going to thrust your spear into me, as far in as it can go? I promise I can take it, Will; I’ve been _practicing_ —"

“It sounds as if you want to be demoted further.” He finishes pouring his glass, moving it a bit to the side before taking out a photograph. Grell, enticed, leans in to inspect it. “I have called you in here, Grell Sutcliff, because of this photograph you left in my personal agenda.”

Her jaw drops. That photo...! It’s the one she took of herself! It took quite a bit of contortion to get the angle just perfect. A blood-red silken top, baggy in some areas and tight in others, but her skin is clearly visible through every inch of the flimsy fabric. Sporting bright red lipstick, the look on her face as she blows a kiss to the camera is downright seductive. And, of course, the bloomers. They’re pulled down just to the base of her rear, as if she’s about to take a spanking, with the camera being her lucky perpetrator. But... that photo is supposed to be in the Undertaker’s shop! Why does _Will_  have it?

“W-Wait, wait! That was supposed to go to the Undertaker, not you! It was an accident, Will, I promise!” She sputters, holding her hands up in surrender. Violently she shakes her head, as if the forcefulness of her actions will be enough to convince her boss not to demote her to just one mini-scissor.

William’s hand freezes around a second wine glass, the other halting in its path to the bottle. “Accident?” he echoes.

Only then, only when Spears’ voice sounds so much stiffer than usual, does the reaper realize that the lights in his office are dim, that he usually only goes for white wine if anything. Is he... _disappointed?_

Her smile returns, voice dropping to something more like a purr. The reaper gets ready to pounce, one knee moving up to the desk. Her chaos is seeping into the woodwork of that horribly immaculate office. William’s always needed to loosen up a bit. “Will...” comes the singsong, and she can see the way her boss stands a bit straighter to compensate. “I always knew I was your favourite.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Grell Sutcliff.” And yet, the corner of his mouth twitches with embarrassment. Far too stoic of a man to blush, but of course... red is her favourite colour, so she’ll just have to find some way to paint his whole face in vivacious scarlet.

His antics have earned him a pout, another whine. “Will! You’re too sexy when you play hard to get! This is a completely distracting work environment!”

The reaper considers this, glasses pushed further up the bridge of his nose. “For once, we agree. You make too much noise for me to focus on work.”

A wide smile as the actress leans in, strands of her bright hair clinging to his shirt. They’re close now, much too close for a boss and his subordinate, but William doesn’t move away. He doesn’t even flinch under her bloodthirsty eyes. “You _wound_  me.”

“Do I?” William murmurs, eyes hooded in a way she’s never seen them before. It excites her down to the very marrow of her bones, seeing how he’s lost some of that rigid self-control he likes to hold so dear. A spear snakes up Grell’s thigh, close enough to her overheated skin that she shivers. A sound catches at the back of her throat, easily the quietest sound she’s ever made in her life. A pathetic whimper. _Decidedly_  not sexy at all. But her partner seems to drink it up like it’s the nectar of the gods. “How would you like it if I really wounded you? It wouldn’t be hard.”

“Unlike you,” the reaper teases. It’s a shot in the dark—the dimness of the office makes it difficult for her to actually discern what’s going on down below. Razor-sharp teeth glint as her hand reaches out to confirm her theory.

Predictably, she’s swatted away by that scythe of William’s. She makes a show of pouting about it, leaning in even closer. All the world’s a stage and all that... it’s _Will’s_  stage, she thinks with relish. He’s far from being the best reaper in the game, so that’s technically untrue, but he’s just oh-so-charming that she can’t help but feel attached. “Feeling a little shy, darling?” she murmurs, false eyelashes fluttering in flirtation.

The manager’s face is so priceless that Grell wishes she had a camera. There’s a flurry of emotions flashing one after the other on that normally stoic face. He’s embarrassed, indignant, desirous... and all of it is of that hellish red she enjoys so deeply. Passion. Too long has her boss been drowning in that sterile white and blue. Tonight, she vows to give him scarlet fever.

The spear comes up to settle his spectacles once more, and the woman waits patiently for his response, a cheshire smile settled on her features.

“Grell Sutcliff.” There’s no trace of that embarrassment now; he’s slipped that mask on once again. But no matter—it’s not really Grell’s job to keep him tangled in the throes of passion. It’s not her job to choke him with deep red vines, thorns drawing beautiful blood from his ankles. She’s far too excited about what will happen next. “Need I remind you that I am your superior?”

He steps forward. She tumbles into a seated position. The anticipation in the air is thick, palpable; she’s sure she’s not imagining it this time. There’s something he’s got planned for her and she has the vague sense that it’s going to be very unlike him. That alone has her quivering, cheeks a brilliant red.

“You’re clearly not going to get any work done like this,” notes Spears, his weapon trailing from her chest down to her stomach. There isn’t any force behind it, just a teasing touch. She feels like she’s going to explode right then and there, steam building up between her ears, but she sucks her lips into her mouth to stop herself from saying anything. William is far, far too interesting for that. “Forget all your other jobs for today. You will take care of my problem for the rest of your shift.”

Grell can’t hold back her laughter at that, one hand racing to catch the man’s tie. A quick yank forward produces a wonderful noise. He doesn’t need to breathe, so it’s not strangulation, but it betrays surprise. William likes to play inhuman, but he feels shock just as well as any human, and he can give himself up to the basest of desires just like them, too. “Hmm...? Your _problem?”_  Her lips quirk into that confident smile of hers, green eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s quite the order coming from you, Willia—ah!”

Pain is no stranger to the scarlet reaper. She’s grown used to pain accompanying every time someone has touched her. But the hand that’s on the back of her neck doesn’t hurt at all. It’s honestly... a little boring. And yet, she finds she can’t move, paralyzed by the breach of her personal space.

The scythe is propped up against the desk, the manager’s free hand moving to the small of Grell’s back, pulling her hips in, sliding her closer as their lips meet. It’s horribly chaste at first, and the reaper’s never been a big fan of chastity. She chuckles, a low sound in her chest, and bites; William’s shocked little gasp gives her tongue free entry, one hand taking hold of his tie and yanking him hard. And just like that, the kiss is over, Spears’ indignance turning him red in the face.

“Don’t bore me, Will.” Her voice is dangerously soft, eyes glinting with ferocity, with hellish passion.

Those glasses have a shine to them that puts up a farce of power, but the two of them know that Spears is losing this battle. “Perverse,” is all he says, but his eyes follow her as she takes the glass of wine and sips it, smirking at him, daring him to move. “That one is mine, Grell Sutcliff.”

“Isn’t that far too many syllables?” she frowns, her hand whipping to the side, a drop of wine splashing on that immaculate desk. She’s pleased to have left her mark, even in this small way. “Just call me Grell. Or you can call me Master.”

“Grell is fine.”

Her eyebrow quirks in amusement, her clothes shifting as she leans in to press her glass to his lips. “Drink up, love.”

Tantalizingly, he obeys. This is infinitely exciting to her—she would never have pinned her manager as someone who enjoys being ordered around, but she is fully prepared to thoroughly investigate. When will she ever get a chance like this again?

“What’s my name?” Her words are a threat, quiet and alluring. The glass remains against his lips.

“Grell Sutcliff.”

She frowns.

“...Master Grell.”

“Oooh!” she squeals, one hand slapping her cheek in utter delight. “I _like_  that!”

“It’s the same number of syllables, in the end.” It’s a valid point presented in that droning voice, but the blood-red reaper simply swats the point away, wrist limp with dismissal.

“But _Master Grell_  has a much nicer ring to it. I’ve never played a master before.” It’s striking, how her voice rises and falls so suddenly, inflections infecting every breath that leaves her lips. Spears exhibits none of that variability, his voice always one-note. What the reaper sees in him, she doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s simply how opposite the two of them are, like sun and moon, light and darkness. Either way, she enjoys her wine. “This has a nice flavour to it. Alright then, butler... undress me. I’m ready for bed.”

She can see the way William’s eyebrow twitches at that. He’s irritated by the shenanigans, she assumes, but there’s no way to separate her from them. He’ll simply have to suffer... and suffering, of course, is passion as well. Beauty to the eye of the red-blooded reaper. She’ll truss him up and watch him bleed.

“Come now,” she purrs, clearly excited by the act. “You’re too stuffy, Will! Think about all the possibilities that acting brings to this! You don’t want something third-rate and boring, do you? I can’t imagine you would if you called _me_  in here.” Her fingers trail invitingly down the manager’s shirt, deftly undoing his top button. The reaper leans in to his ear, voice dropping even further to a whisper. “Now... fetch us some oil.”

Her deadly ears are not graced with a response; apparently, her manager is far too proud to admit that she’s right. Instead, unblinkingly, Spears opens a drawer in his desk to reveal a bottle of olive oil. The pitter-patter of Grell’s heart reaches astronomical speed as he places it beside her. So... Will was planning this all along?! She can hardly breathe; to think that he would call her into his office for such an unprofessional reason!

If this is all about that photograph, the reaper thinks sagely, then he may want to spank her today. She keeps the thought in mind for later. If the actress can’t find a way for this to be incorporated into a master-butler act, then she’s definitely not worth her salt.

“You’re so naughty today, Will,” the master murmurs, but the downright villainous smile on her face gives away her true intention. She pushes herself unceremoniously off the desk, taking another sip of wine before turning to sit in her boss’ chair. “To think you would call a woman to your office for such a scandalous reason... unless you’re planning to propose?”

Will’s nose crinkles near-imperceptibly.

“Good boy.” The empty glass is handed to him, and he carefully places it on the desk. The reaper is oddly silent about this sick fantasy Grell’s playing out; she takes it as a silent message to continue.

That suspicion is immediately confirmed by William’s next words. “More wine, madam?”

She’s utterly thrilled from the tip of her skull to the base of her core. One leg gets crossed over the other, and it’s even more thrilling to see how Spears tries and fails not to be drawn to the movement. “No, no. But whatever happened to Master Grell? I thought you respected me, William.”

The manager doesn’t even flinch. He certainly makes a deadly good butler, Grell thinks in satisfaction. And for her authoritative boss to have such a submissive side...! She’s beside herself with anticipation, mind already churning one fantasy after another, wondering which one to act out next. “Apologies, Master Grell.”

The actress dismisses him with a wave of her hand, uncrossing her legs and leaning ever-so-slightly forward. She’s figured out what her plan is moving forward. “Alright, butler, here is my order. Stand right here in front of me and hold my hair back.”

With a mischievous smile, Grell peers up at her butler, pleased to find that she can practically see the gears turning in his head as he obeys. He’s trying to find out what she has planned, but of course... with such a dreary and dispassionate office, he could never begin to guess something like this. “Is this acceptable, my lady Master Grell?” Seems like he’s far too fond of long titles, but she doesn’t mind it this time.

“Perfect,” she purrs, undoing his belt and pants with a flourish. He stiffens with the realization, and with how close she is to him, the shift in the fabric is obvious. She presses a kiss to it, trailing one manicured fingernail down his side. “Is there an issue with my orders, William?”

It takes him a second to collect himself enough to speak—how utterly adorable! “None at all... my lady Master Grell.”

A brilliant smile as she inches closer to him, spreading her legs wide enough for his eye to be drawn. She slowly nudges his clothing down to his knees, freeing him from his confines. He shivers against the sterility of the room, a lock of Grell’s hair escaping his grasp. So he’s losing his self-control, is he...? She unbuttons her pants and shifts herself so he can get a good view of her bloomers. His half-hard cock twitches at the sight.

Perfect.

Her expert tongue slithers out of her mouth, one long lick sliding up his base. He tries valiantly not to make a sound, and yet... something tells the scarlet woman that he’ll yelp like a little puppy if she orders him to. But that’s not for right now. She has to work him up enough, to make him _want_  to moan and groan and grovel before her.

Her fingers move to tease his balls, unblinking eyes fixed on his face. He refuses to let his stoicism go, remaining stone-faced. But no one can resist her. Even the mighty must fall. And he will.

“Mmm...” A manufactured sigh from the reaper, the sound vibrating in her throat as she slides him in, out. Just to let him get a taste of her pucker before she returns to teasing his tip. Another lock of her hair tumbles onto her shoulder—the only sign of William’s losing effort to keep control. She peers at him with deadly eyes, a serpent with venom that will paralyze him as he groans and bucks his hips, unable to keep up his precious farce.

In time, she promises herself, loyally continuing her ministrations. William is slowly losing composure, his grip on her hair tightening in an effort to keep his expression neutral. She drools over him, fresh saliva coating his length. Spears makes a face as if he’s disgusted, but his act is revealed when he twitches in her mouth. She grins lazily; a bead of sweat travels down his neck in response.

The actress’ hand moves elegantly to tease herself, to produce for William an altogether gorgeous sight. Flushed with brilliant red, her pleasure and passion on display, just for him.

She separates with a sickening sound, and he visibly swallows back a complaint. Beautifully, when the man next speaks, his voice cracks. “Is there a problem... my lady Master Grell?”

“You can thrust if you like,” responds the lady in red as she doffs her coat. “I can take it, honey.”

“V-Very good, my lady.” He flinches at the stammer in his own words.

She squeezes his balls tight in her palm. He groans and a bead of that infantile white appears on his tip.

“M-My lady Master Grell,” he chokes in correction. His reward is for her tongue to dart out and lick up his little slip-up. The butler collects her hair in his hands once more.

Grell is always watching. She continues to do so as she blows a gentle burst of air on him. In fascination, she watches as he wobbles for her. “Don’t forget to give yourself over to me, now,” she cautions the other before moving right back in.

He’s shy at first, but the moment she starts teasing herself he seems to lose himself a bit, hips pushing forward in an effort to get closer. She rewards him by swallowing—once, twice. And then it’s her hands on him instead of herself, hips tilted invitingly towards him. “Giving yourself over to passion, Will?” she teases, voice dangerously soft.

“Stop that.”

 _“Stop?”_  she echoes, trailing the joint of her index finger up his shaft before removing her dexterous touch altogether. “If you insist, darling.”

“Ngh...” He’s caught now, pride choking him. He must have thought that he couldn’t be strangled if he never had to breathe. And yet his lady master has proven him wrong. Time and time and time and time again, she muddies his sense of what is right and wrong, what is acceptable and wholly not so. She takes his chessboard and throws it to the side, pieces scattering every which way. His perfect world... stained by her passionate red.

She grins wider. He feels, overwhelmingly, as if he can’t control himself.

“N-No... don’t stop.”

Finally, _finally,_  her scarlet has infected him, burning the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks. The lady in red is wholly pleased. Fire has consumed him, the hellish red of desire and the humiliation of being altogether taken apart.

She moves in, kisses his swollen balls, darts her tongue around the base of his shaft. His arousal’s heightened now that he knows how easy it is to lose her. She’s blood pouring from an open wound, and his cooperation is a compress. He needs her, or he’ll die. So the manager lets himself breathe, lets himself buck into her touch, lets himself bite his lip.

“Good boy,” she purrs, words ghosting over him, and he lets out a pitiful whimper. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever made.

She leans back in her chair, appreciating the way he’s looking at her, a proud dog forced to beg. “Undress me now, butler,” she murmurs. “I have a special request of you.”

“Yes, my lady Master Grell.” The rumble is automatic, and Grell can’t help but feel a thrill as his hands unbutton her shirt, as he reveals her heated skin, as he slides her trousers and bloomers far down enough for her to kick them aside. Then he’s kneeling, removing socks and shoes. He plays the part of a butler magnificently, even despite his throbbing desire on display. She ruffles his hair appreciatively, earning her an irritated glance.

“Will! Don’t give me that look!” squeals the actress as she breaks character, one leg moving as if she’s tempted to kick him in the face. “You’re too cute for me—honestly, I don’t know how I’ve lasted this long. The things I’ve been wanting to do to you...! You’re making me drip _all over your chair._ ” His eyes dart downwards to confirm, and he relaxes somewhat upon finding she was lying.

“Spank me, William.” The scarlet reaper kneels on the chair, turning to reveal her backside. She hasn’t quite gotten back into character, her words breathy and lusty and not very commanding. But it has the same effect on the manager, who gulps and raises his palm.

Grell moans as the sound reverberates around the room. Her lover bites hard on his cheek to prevent himself from making any unnecessary noises.

“Use the oil on me, darling.” His hand blindly reaches for it, slathering it all over the expanse of her rear. He’ll prepare her later; this is what he’s wanted all evening.

_Thwack!_

“Aaah...! Mmm...! W-Will...!”

Breathless and desperate. It’s everything the manager has wanted to hear all along. That beautiful lilt of that expressive voice, begging and squealing and gasping. It’s so authentic... not an act as far as he can tell—or perhaps it is, and she’s simply that good at it. Either way, it’s too much beauty for him to fathom, a single red rose in a sea of blinding white. He sends his hand flying to connect with her once more.

 _“Ah!_  Will...!”

How vain is it to believe that she truly wants him? How foolish is it for him to crave her attention? How pitiful is it for the mere thought of her with another is enough to fill him with the ugliest of jealousies? He’s always imagined himself as far more than human. Transcended from the dull petty nature of the flesh and dedicated solely to the work of the undead. And yet... her favourite colour is pumping through his veins. His tongue, his muscle, his cock—they’re all for her. They’re all the colour she adores so much. The colour of passion. The colour of murder. The colour of lust.

Her skin is flushed red, too, and William realizes with shock that he’s left a handprint there. Has he been striking her so hard? And there the actress is, quivering with delight. How she can take such suffering and turn it into passion is beyond him. Annoyingly, his heart skips a beat.

The oil is cold as it runs over his fingers; he’s mindful of his lover’s comfort as he warms it up with friction. And then, the reaper is sliding his fingers in, working and prying and opening. Grell is suspiciously quiet; likely trying to manage the pain.

“How do you feel about anal, my lady Master Grell?”

The resulting laugh is sudden, so much so that she can’t hide the pain laced underneath the sound. “You’re asking this _now?”_

The resulting laugh from Spears is enough to do the impossible—to put butterflies in the stomach of one Grell Sutcliff. She’s sure it’s impossible for her to really catch feelings, but the horrid way her heart thumps in her chest is nothing but the chaos of pure love. Pure love? What is she, twelve years old? But the way his chuckle resounds, the way it pierces the air, the way it pierces _her_... She can’t help but feel like the two of them need to be much, much closer.

“Y-You’re being unfair,” the lady tries to pout, breathless already from the way he’s knocked the wind from her lungs. “E-Exploiting a woman’s weaknesses... you really are the worst, Will.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t hear it again anytime soon.”

The words put an infectious smile on Grell’s lips. “Good. Never let your hand slip that easily. It’ll lose its power if you throw it out for the dogs.”

“Dogs like you?”

Grell laughs at that, warm-toned and bubbling like fresh blood from a wound. “Mind your tongue, William.”

His smile is evident in his words. “Yes, my lady Master Grell.”

It takes a few minutes, but the actress finally lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, the pain subsiding enough for her to want something a little more scarlet. “Will-i-ammm...” whines the master.

It happens far too fast for her to truly enjoy it. The feeling of loss, the feeling of gain. A stretch that rips a godawful noise from the deepest reaches of her throat. William’s hand, comfortingly, on the small of her back. She has her back to him, but somehow if she closes her eyes, she can see him smiling.

“Fuck... W-Will, i-it’s rude to keep a lady waiti—ngh—!”

He starts moving, hips snapping into action, back and forth, a rhythm as steady and safe as his office, his job, his heart. When has Grell ever liked stability? His chair is as black as the mire of her sin. A sin against blood-red passion, the chaos of rampant desire. What has happened to her to make her want to forgo that vivacity? What steady pace could possibly call to her louder than the siren of instability?

“Nn... nnnh... W-Will, _oh_...”

The actress doesn’t realize it herself, but her voice has started to carry, slowly rising in volume until it reaches beyond their sanctuary. William’s fingers trail down her back, too soothing for a woman like her, and she very nearly sobs as a result. More. More. She’ll consume him until there isn’t a speck of red left in him.

Spears moves her tresses aside, enjoying the way they tumble across her smooth back, and slowly runs his tongue along her shoulder. How pointless of an action this is. How absolutely unnecessary for him to taste her skin with every inch of his own. And yet, she offers a moan that’s most definitely theatric, and he loses himself just that little bit more.

“L-Let me hear you, Will,” gasps the actress, her voice so totally immersed in seduction that her lover has trouble keeping control of himself. And yet he has enough to force a no through gritted teeth.

The punishment is swift and absolute. Grell’s hand flies out to hold Will’s cock in place as she pulls off him with a noise that makes the reaper’s heart plummet to his shoes.

Never in his life has Spears been so insulted. There’s a sputter of indignity, of confusion, of deliberation. Is it worth it to defile himself for this lewd woman? For this reaper who never takes her work seriously, who slices others through with her scythe and giggles as their blood pools around her shoes? The answer, he knows in his heart of hearts, is yes. And yet his pride prevents him from doing so, his fear of being found by a coworker in such a vulnerable state.

“I wonder if Sebas-chan has time after this,” comments Grell idly, having stepped off the chair. “Doesn’t he seem like the type of man who’s fantastic with his _tongue?”_

Will’s eyes look greener than she’s ever seen them. The poor thing, trembling like a leaf, unsure whether or not to be angry or despondent, jealousy eating away at his shaken pride. Words have left him by now and it’s both quite entertaining and a bit sad.

Mercifully, she shrugs, a painted frown on her lips. “You really think of me as a common whore, don’t you? Even I wouldn’t do two for the price of the one. Well...” and here she offers a gleaming smile that makes Spears’ heart twist in his chest, “maybe I would.”

Promptly, she pushes the other back in his chair, straddling him and watching him with brilliant emerald eyes. “Is this alright, darling?”

Her boss is a romantic, apparently, as he can’t stop looking into the lady’s eyes. “Yes... my lady Master Grell.”

“Good boy,” she purrs, placing her palms flat on the desk behind her for support as she begins to ride him. It’s a bit clumsy at first, admittedly, but Grell is nothing if not flexible. Any issues with the angle are immediately rectified by the way she gasps Will’s name, as if he’s the only one in the world for her, as if she truly feels something for him. She’s not sure if she’s lying to him or to herself.

“Will... _Will_...! I nnnh... _need_  you...” One eye cracked open, to see how taken apart her boss is. And oh... its far greater than she could have imagined. His collar is soaked with sweat, breaths coming out in short pants. With all the noise she’s making and the punishment he’d received for being too quiet, he’s elected to merely begin to breathe, and his exertion shows. He must be close to the end. While it would be tempting to shock it out of him, Grell feels like something a tad more sentimental is warranted.

Her sentimental has never been chocolates and roses, though. She grinds down onto his lap, sucking her bottom lip in her mouth and finally dropping her act entirely, focusing solely on her own pleasure. William watches her like his life depends on it.

“Will,” she whispers, and based on the way he trembles, he feels this same connection between them, their hearts tied together with thick red rope.

“M-M—nngh, _Grell_...”

Never has her name sounded so sweet. Warmth flares at the base of her stomach and she can’t help but smile at the way her boss is drinking her in like a work of art. “Come now, William, give me a show I’ll never forget.”

That sturdy forehead is soaked with a sheen of sweat, hair dripping with it. The stench hangs in the air, tainting this precise and sterile space. Grell is nothing short of thrilled to be the infection in Will’s perfect immune system. “G-Grell... Grell, a-ah...”

Panting now like a dog in heat, hips pushing uselessly up into her just to try to feel important—how fragile men are, she thinks as she pushes him in up to the hilt. One slow roll, another one, three quick bounces. Slow, slow... quick quick quick. When she feels his thighs tighten in anticipation, she switches the rhythm up and he groans in appreciation and frustration. A perfect mixture of two shades of bright red.

Their bodies move together, a perfect synchronization, better than they’ve worked together in centuries. “Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of _direst cruelty_ ,” the reaper pants, and Will almost laughs at how she’s quoting _Macbeth_  of all things at a time like this. It adds to her charm, that deadly charm, the toxic venom in her hips and chest and that dangerous smile, the glint in her eyes, everything that comprises her. “Make thick my blood,” she whispers, practically trembling with how this passage excites her, “stop up the access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my f—ahh!”

Will’s hit a place in Grell that almost makes her collapse in the precarious position she’s in. A wanton growl, her rear pushing down hard into his lap as she rides the wave. “W-Will,” she gasps, all semblance of an act vanishing in the wake of the humiliating way her voice cracks in the shape of her lover’s name. “I know you like your self-control, but I’m n-not going to last, so _please_ —!”

Spears adjusts his glasses, which have slipped laughably far down his nose in the commotion. “Y-Yes, my lady... Mast... hhh...”

She doesn’t see the way his eyes glaze over, doesn’t notice the way his lips silently form the shape of her first name, doesn’t even realize that she’s being filled up with that cursed colour she hates so much. She’s far too busy making a complete mess of herself, throwing her head back as she grinds out the last few seconds of orgasm, mind set completely on destroying her lover, on making sure he can’t be pieced together without her.

They breathe together. How human of a conclusion is that? Their sweaty, sticky bodies entangled together, the air drenched with scent, their skin aflame with passionate red. And they’re breathing.

And then Will kisses her.

She kisses back, dexterous legs pulling herself off of his softening cock without missing a beat. In his lap, the reaper feels safer than she has in a very long time. It feels like both seconds and hours before they finally stop kissing; Grell thinks with satisfaction that it could very well have been hours, as neither of them need to breathe.

“You’re demoted. Hand in one of your scissors on the way out.”

“What?!” Grell’s caught between wanting to complain and being utterly shell-shocked.

William’s glasses glint as he gestures around the room. “You made a mess of my office.”

“ _You_  made a mess of your office!” Grell seethes, clambering off her superior’s lap and collecting her clothes from the ground. However, she obediently places a pair of scissors on the desk.

Spears smiles, and her heart flutters. “We can’t have anyone thinking you get special treatment.”

The razor-sharp smile meets razor-sharp eyes. “Truly, Will... you _wound_  me.”


End file.
